


Scattered Like Lines on a Black and White Screen

by gremlins-came-and-got-me (Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Allison), Attempted Drugging, Convenient plot is convenient, Death from Injury, Evil Argents, F/M, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Murder for Hire plot, Permanent Injury, Prince Derek, Queen Talia, Royal Guard Boyd, Royal Hales, Sad Chris Argent, Stiles Is An Assassin, bodyguard erica, past Derek/Sammy, pre-Sterek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 11:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14212635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark/pseuds/gremlins-came-and-got-me
Summary: Ex-military Stiles Stilinski has found work as an assassin. He's good at his job and comes highly recommended, which is why it's a surprise for him when a woman claiming to be married to the prince of a tiny island nation hires him to follow her husband.Things are not as they seem, and Stiles just may not be able to complete this job.





	1. Cover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Diamond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond/gifts).



> Title comes from Sir Sly's _Witches_.

 


	2. Story

~ * ~

Stiles paused in the doorway, the bag from _Andie’s_ _Bar and Grill_ swinging from the crook of his arm.

The blonde currently in his chair smirked at him.

“Who are you?” he asked, pretending that it didn’t bother him that 1) she had obviously let herself in when he wasn’t here and 2) she had touched nearly everything in his office. Several knick-knacks were askew and out of place from where Stiles had left them.

“Kate Argent,” the blonde said, offering her hand in a way that was meant to force Stiles to kiss it. He ignored it in favor of putting his sandwich into the full sized refrigerator he used to store medicines and spare blood in case of emergencies.

“Argent,” Stiles said thoughtfully, still ignoring her outstretched hand.

Kate dropped it with a huff. “My father is the ambassador to Lýkos.”

“Oh yes, Gerard Argent. I know him.” Stiles perched on the edge of his desk and deliberately reached past her to pull out a binder with her father’s file. “Had me do a simple recon and then never paid me.” He snapped it shut. “Why should I help you?”

Kate smiled, pulling out an envelope folded over. She flipped it open to show him a stack of bills. “Is this incentive enough?” she asked.

Stiles feigned disinterest, but a quick peek revealed that there was more than his usual fee in there. Kate was posturing by paying Gerard’s bill.

“All I want you to do is follow someone,” Kate said. She dropped the envelope onto Stiles’ desk and stood up, smoothing down her pencil skirt and straightening her blazer. “The information is in the envelope. If you choose to accept the job, my number is in there. If you don’t take the job, I’ll be back in a few days to collect it.”

She left, the door slamming behind her.

Stiles waited a half an hour, during which he ate his lunch and checked his email, before he picked up the envelope. As promised, Kate’s phone number, a burner cell, was inside along with double his usual rate. She was serious about paying off her father’s debt.

Stiles tapped his fingers, deciding.

Money wasn’t tight right now because he’d just done a three-month job and his client was more reliable than Gerard, but a bit extra before he had to go underground again would be nice.

He sighed, jumping up to pace. Pacing helped with things. So did jerking off, but Stiles wasn’t particularly in the mood for that right now. A few minutes later, he was back at the desk, counting the money again.

Fifteen thousand.

All of Gerard’s payment and half of Kate’s. If Stiles took Kate’s job, he’d get the other half of payment after completion.

Stiles hated dealing with the Argents, but Kate seemed to be avoiding her father’s dickhead moves. Even if she screwed him, he still had fifteen thousand.

Stiles called her number.

“I’m taking it,” he said when she answered in a hushed whisper. Then, he hung up. Whatever else she needed to tell him, she could do at a later date.

Right now, it was best if they avoided each other for a few days.

~ * ~

The rest of his previous contract paid up before Kate Argent called to schedule a meeting at the new Calaveras’ bar/club combo. It meant that Stiles had a little more negotiating power when he agreed to a drink with Kate.

The bar was busy, but Stiles had an in with the head of the company, and all he had to do was step through the door before Araya was by his elbow, leading him to one of the private tables.

“I’m meeting a woman here,” Stiles told her. “Business. Show her up when she gets here, please.” He dropped a couple of hundred dollar bills onto the table. “That should cover a singular drink for myself and whatever she orders. Keep the change.”

Araya nodded, tucking one of the hundreds into her pocket as she returned to the floor.

Stiles didn’t have to wait long before Araya returned leading Kate Argent.

Kate had dressed up, with an off the shoulder royal blue dress that fell past her knees. She had paired it with silver heels and a silver clutch. Stiles stood and moved her chair for her, subtly running his hand across her lower back to feel for a wire.

Kate smirked at him when he sat across from her.

“Handsy, aren’t we, Mr. Stilinski?”

Stiles shrugged. “I have learned that I cannot be too careful in my line of work, Ms. Argent.”

“Please, call me Mrs. Hale.”

“Hale, as in—”

Kate smiled, more genuinely this time. “Yes. The crown prince of Lýkos and I have just celebrated our third anniversary.”

“Congratulations.” Stiles flagged down a server and ordered a gin and tonic neat while Kate ordered a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.

“It would be,” Kate said as soon as they were alone.

“But?”

“But, my husband didn’t see fit to include me in his anniversary plans this year.” She leaned closer to Stiles. “I want you to follow him, find out who he’s having an affair with, and report back to me.”

Stiles blinked. “You do realize that I’m not a private eye, right?”

Kate laughed. “Yes, I know.”

Stiles waited while the server set their drinks down. He dismissed her with a smile and a quiet thank you. As soon as she was back downstairs, Stiles set his drink off to the side, fixing Kate with a serious stare.

She seemed unfazed, sipping at her drink.

“Mrs. Hale, I am not going to follow your husband. You have the completely wrong idea of what I do.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Stilinski, I know exactly what you do. I know about your previous clients. I also know about what you did for my father. I am willing to pay another fee if you end up having to affect your profession upon my husband.”

Another twenty thousand on top of the fifteen she’s already paid him? Well, he’d get twenty if he knocked off her husband. Provided he deserved it.

Stiles tried to avoid international incidents since they tended to come with a mandatory change of identity and a long period of laying low.

“Throw in another fifteen if I have to ‘affect my profession,’” Stiles said. “Do you have an information packet for me?”

Kate opened her clutch and passed him a thumb drive. “Everything you need is on here.”

Stiles took it and tucked it into his tie. “Thank you for hiring me,” he said sincerely.

He left her watching the dance floor, glass in hand.

~ * ~

The thumb drive contained several files on the prince of Lýkos. He was third in line for the throne, behind his older and younger sisters, which meant that he held almost no power.

Kate must have married him for the status. She hadn’t struck Stiles as one to marry for love. Indeed, her play with paying off her father’s debt spoke of a woman determined to garner as much prestige as she could without compromising herself.

To have her husband cheat on her even though they were likely in a loveless marriage was an insult. One that Kate did not intend to take, and Stiles could admire that about her.

In the pictures, candid shots of Derek working on a motorbike, of him walking his younger sister down a red carpet premier, the prince appeared aloof, mostly straight-faced. A few times his smile did not appear to be forced or coerced, but they were few and far between. Even a shot of him brunching with Kate revealed nothing.

Stiles noted the lack of personality on a pad of paper. Derek was six feet tall, two hundred and twenty pounds of lean muscle. His eyes appeared green in most of the pictures, and his hair was black. He usually kept a short, neatly trimmed beard, but in the most recent pictures Kate had provided, he’d been clean-shaven for his uncle’s wedding.

How best to follow him without his detail noticing him?

Well, Stiles wasn’t good at his job for nothing. There was a reason Kate had approached him even though her father had tried to screw him over.

He tapped his lips with his pen, looking over the information again.

Every year apparently, Derek would take a trip to visit his aging grandmother, the mother of his father, in southern California. He still had his detail, but it would be easy to divert his taxi or be hired as a bodyguard for him.

Stiles scrolled to the bottom of the folder to find Kate’s notes on Derek.

It was full of little tidbits that it would take months for Stiles to learn by observation. She hadn’t come to him with the intention of having him follow her husband: she wanted him to kill Derek Hale.

Stiles wasn’t certain he approved of that idea. Yes, Derek was a low-level royal who likely would never see the throne under his control, but that didn’t mean his death wouldn’t spark an international incident.

A decision had to be made and soon.

Stiles dug out Kate’s payment and counted it again. It was enough to cover the upfront of a hit. Would it be enough to cover a simple follow?

It would depend on Derek. He seemed simple in his tastes. When he visited his grandmother, he often would stay in with a friend when he wasn’t at the rest home.

Being Derek’s bodyguard would make it easier to decide whether he would have to eventually kill the prince.

Stiles closed everything and ejected the thumb drive, tossing it into a metal trashcan with a few tissues and lighting it on fire.

He then reformatted his hard drive, wiping all traces of his involvement with Kate Argent away as easily as a hand over sand.

As soon as he got his backup computer up and running, he booked a flight out to Lýkos and updated his resume.

There was little doubt he’d get the job. Stiles really was quite good at what he did.

~ * ~

Stepping off the plane in Lýkos was like stepping into a sauna with a broken dial. Everything was hot and sticky, damp with humidity.

The passenger ahead of Stiles had her ponytail bush up right in his face. It was kind of awesome to watch. Not so awesome when the frizzed strands stuck to his face because he was sweating so much.

On the tarmac, there was a small crowd gathered. The woman with the humidified hair ran to embrace a tall, strong fellow with a shaved head and a gentle smile. Next to them, a lanky kid stood, a sign hanging limp in his hand.

Another passenger, one that Stiles recognized from the pictures Kate provided, brushed past him and threw her arms around the kid.

Stiles smiled privately to himself. He’d known she was there the whole time. The first thing he did whenever he had to travel was examine all the passengers and commit their faces to memory. Princess Cora hadn’t stood out nor had she gone unnoticed.

Her entourage, a series of bodyguards, trooped out and surrounded the princess and her friend. Stiles would be unable to actually follow them without arousing their suspicions. Besides, he had a meeting with the head of security in half an hour.

His rental car was available almost immediately, and Stiles thanked the man at the window. He got a genuine smile in return.

The drive up to the palace was considerably slower than Stiles had anticipated. He barely made it through the gates and to the guardhouse before his thirty minutes expired.

He was unsurprised to see the man with the shaved head standing by the guardhouse. This was who he had his appointment with: Vernon Boyd III, head of the knights of the Royal Guard. The woman from the plane was nowhere to be seen, which didn’t stop Stiles from looking for her.

“Mr. Stilinski?” Boyd said, hand out.

“Sir Boyd,” Stiles returned, firmly shaking Boyd’s hand. “A pleasure.”

“Certainly.” Boyd eyed Stiles, nodding at the t-shirt and cargo pants. “Uniform?”

Stiles laughed. “No. Had to find something comfortable to travel in.” Boyd was dressed in the ceremonial uniform of the Lýkos royal guard, a white jacket over white pants, white cap. Stuck out like a sore thumb but didn’t appear to be nearly as overheated as Stiles felt.

“Shall we begin?”

Boyd didn’t give Stiles any weapons before he rushed him. Stiles grinned and threw his shoulder down flipping Boyd over it. Boyd clapped his hands and two more guards stepped out of the structure.

“Mr. Stilinski is interviewing for a position in our detail,” he told them.

“Is this supposed to discourage me?” Stiles asked.

“On the contrary, Mr. Stilinski,” Boyd said, “this is to test you.” The first guard handed Stiles a staff. Boyd nodded at him. “If you can successfully get past all three of us, you will be invited back for an interview with the Queen tomorrow. Fail to pass any of us and you will lose this opportunity.”

Stiles hefted the staff, testing the weight. “ _En garde_ ,” he said before he swung it at Boyd’s head.

~ * ~

The hotel room was delightful. Lýkos may not have been an old or well-established kingdom, in fact the country was less than fifty years old, but their hospitality was outstanding.

Stiles had returned his rental car when he realized that aside from the airport, everything he needed access to, his hotel, the community center, and the castle grounds, were all located centrally. He could walk to his interviews in less time than it took him to drive there.

On his first pass through the lobby, he noticed Cora and her friend hiding behind the aquarium wall. Accompanying his sister was the prince.

Kate’s pictures had not done him justice. The man was beautiful, his eyes less green and more of an aventurine color. His hair was coiffed almost, but less in the style of a fashionable person and more like the prince had rolled out of bed, run his hands through his hair, and it happened to stay that way.

He seemed bored by his sister and her friend, often staring into space.

So, his personality was still zero.

Wonderful.

Stiles used a burner cell phone to clone Derek’s phone on his second pass, fumbling a nearly full glass of water onto the friend and apologizing profusely as he mopped ineffectively at it.

When he pulled back, Derek made eye contact, and his lips curved almost into an amused smirk.

Cora, however, ruined the moment by squawking loudly for a staff member to throw Stiles out.

“Now,” Derek began only for Cora to hiss at him. He fell silent, eyes hooded and mouth grim. Stiles took the advantage afforded when Cora started berating her brother to escape to his room.

Once there, he examined the information he’d gathered from Derek’s phone. Nothing useful. No obvious affair. Of course, he could be using a separate cell phone for that.

In this phone, Stiles found Kate’s contact. He copied down the number, sticking it into his fireproof briefcase disguised as a laptop case. He stashed the copy phone and the itinerary he’d managed to steal from the car rental in there too.

Then, he walked down to the community center and swam laps.

~ * ~

Boyd was waiting for him the next morning.

“The Queen was impressed with your show yesterday,” he said. “She has more trials for you today.”

“Of course,” Stiles murmured. He followed Boyd’s lead, bowing deeply when they were admitted into the throne room.

Talia Hale was as regal and beautiful as the stories that preceded her, and Stiles felt awed to be in the presence of someone so obviously royal.

He remained bowed until she spoke, “Rise,” voice firm, cool, but sweet. He could hear Cora in her tone and wondered if he heard Derek speak for any length would he hear him too.

“Welcome to Lýkos, Mr. Stilinski. Sir Boyd tells me you are most impressive in your fighting.”

“Eight years in special combat,” Stiles said. “It’s served me well.”

“You passed Sir Boyd’s first test,” Talia said. “Now you have to pass my first test.” She nodded toward the wings, and Stiles half-turned, watching as three soldiers dressed in a more informal black and green uniform melted out of the shadows, two men and a woman. Stiles grinned, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.

Then, he sprang forward, tucking into a roll that took him past the first soldier and to the second. A sharp kick had the man crumpling while the woman lunged at him.

Stiles ducked and bobbed, weaving over the throne room, leading the soldiers on a merry chase.

After a few minutes of this, Talia stood and shouted, “Enough!”

She smiled at Stiles, pleased. “Only our countrymen may serve our army, but Mr. Stilinski, you make a damning case for changing the laws.”

Stiles was barely winded from his brief show of athleticism, and he bowed to the queen. “I am not interested in joining your army as of yet,” he said. “I would much rather be a bodyguard for any needed persons.”

Talia hummed. “Pass the rest of our tests and we will see.”

Stiles bowed again. She waved him away, dismissing him. Boyd led him back outside and Stiles nearly regretted it immediately as the humidity hadn’t abated at all. It might have even been worse.

“Rain tonight,” Boyd predicted. Stiles would take his word for it since he lived here and knew the weather. “Be at the club at 7:00 tonight. This will be my final test.”

“No hints? Nothing?” Stiles raised an eyebrow when Boyd turned on his heel and marched away.

Well then. Stiles returned to his hotel, thinking that Lýkos was very strange indeed. He’d done nothing more physical than evading a trio of lumbering soldiers. Surely the queen would have had a more challenging test for someone who potentially could be tasked with watching over her children or herself.

He encountered Derek at the entrance, and stepped aside so that the prince could exit first. Derek paused, staring at him.

“You are familiar,” he said, softly, studying Stiles. “You were here before?”

“Uh, yes. I’m actually staying here. I’m interviewing for a position.”

Derek’s brow creased further. “There’s a position open? For what?” His face cleared suddenly, settling into an angry mask. Stiles recoiled from the coldness of his posture.

“Never mind,” Derek spit, shoving past him.

“Wait,” Stiles called. He mentally kicked himself. The last thing he needed was for his target to become familiar with him. It was bad enough that Derek had recognized him.

“What?”

“I’m supposed to meet someone at the club, but this is my first time here.”

Derek shrugged at him. “There’s only one club on this side of the country.” He pointed at a gaudily painted building standing unassuming between a pink-and-yellow striped bakery and nondescript bistro. “They don’t take your kind, though,” he said.

“My kind?” Stiles was insulted. “And what kind is that?”

Derek shrugged again. “Ex-foreign-military.”

“Oh.” Stiles laughed a little. “And why is that?”

“You are all so, what’s the word, hateful of your differents.”

“Differents?”

“You know, your gays and your lesbians. The people who are different.”

“I’m different,” Stiles protested. “I’m bisexual. Can I still come?”

Derek looked him up and down, his face smoothing into a brilliant smile. “Certainly. You can be my date.”

Stiles spluttered as Derek left him standing in the hotel doorway.

He was a bold one, Stiles could give him that. No wonder Kate had probably hired Stiles to kill him. Stiles had been here less than 24 hours and he already had proof that Derek was cheating on his wife. And he was the other person!

Stiles retired to his room to work out a plan of action.

~ * ~

Stiles met Boyd in front of the club, and he held the door for him. Once inside, Stiles was pleasantly surprised to find that there were no strobe lights flashing nor any pounding bass.

The music was still the eclectic mix that was found in most clubs around the world, something easily danced to but not at an ear shattering level that prohibited conversations.

Stiles could see Derek leaning against the bar, watching the door with narrow gaze. Next to him, a blonde bombshell dressed in a silver mini dress with a matching clutch strapped to her wrist hanging off his arm as she excitedly pointed at someone crossing the dance floor.

It took Stiles an embarrassing five seconds to recognize the woman as the one from the plane with the frizzed hair. She detached from Derek to chase after the person she’d chosen.

By the time Boyd and Stiles made it to the bar, Stiles had identified at least three threats circling including a shadowed figure sitting on the indoor balcony.

Derek glared at Stiles before embracing Boyd and clapping him on the back. The blonde returned with the person in tow. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was at all surprised to discover that it was Princess Cora’s friend.

“Boyd!” the blonde cried, throwing her arms around Boyd and squeezing. She plastered a lipstick kiss to his cheek, smearing it with her thumb when she pulled back. “Not that I’m not happy to see you,” she said, “but what are you doing here?”

Boyd nodded at Stiles. “Working.”

Stiles nodded back at her, tipping an imaginary hat. Derek’s face smoothed from his pinched, angry look, and he grinned before pretending to tip the pretend hat off Stiles’ head. Stiles returned the smile, turning to order a drink as a cover and catching the bartender dumping the contents of an unmarked packet into a random drink sitting on the counter. Stiles swiped it, gritting out “Boyd,” as he trapped the man’s wrist while Boyd looked back at the commotion.

“What’s going on?”

“Matt?” Derek said, looking uncertainly at Stiles and then at the drink he was holding.

“I don’t know what his deal is,” the bartender said, his face a mask of shock. He was nondescript. White, brown hair, blue eyes, average height and weight. He might pop on a lineup for the coldness around his eyes and the way the sneer never truly left his face, but Stiles knew if he and this man were side by side, the only thing that might make Stiles stand out was his brown eyes and moles.

“Give me that,” Stiles lunged half over the bar and grabbed the packet still sticking from the bartender, Matt’s pocket. Boyd took custody of Matt’s arm while Stiles pulled it free and set it beside the drink. The blonde snapped open her clutch, digging through a few bottles until she pulled out an eyedropper with a clear liquid inside. She put a few drops in the drink, which became streaked neon green with most of the color settling at the bottom.

“What does that mean?” Matt asked.

“It means you are under detainment,” Boyd answered, hauling Matt over the bar. Stiles moved the glass from Matt’s flailing feet while the blonde tipped some of the chemical onto the packet. It lit up in the same neon green as the drink. Stiles bagged both in separate plastic bags that Boyd handed him before he hauled Matt out of the bar.

The blonde gave him a permanent marker and Stiles wrote the date, time, and his initials on it.

“I’m Erica,” the blonde said, sticking her hand in his face. Stiles shook it.

“Stiles.”

“Thanks for doing that,” Derek said quietly. Stiles nodded at him, scanning the crowd. The shadowed figure had disappeared, and he made a mental note to ask Boyd later. The kid on the other side of Erica climbed behind the bar and began directing the handful of patrons to an unused section. Boyd returned with another royal guard officer in tow, and they began processing the scene.

“Erica, make sure Derek makes it home okay,” Boyd instructed. He turned to Stiles. “This wasn’t part of the test, but it makes my case stronger. Please return to your room and await further questioning.”

“Will do.”

“Wait, what test?” Derek stepped in front of Stiles. “What’s going on?”

“My Lord, please step aside.” Boyd dismissed Erica and Stiles with a wave. Derek refused to budge until Stiles rolled his eyes at him.

“Will you explain?” he asked, and Stiles paused at the vulnerability he heard in his voice.

“Sure. Let’s just get you somewhere safe. Okay?”

Derek nodded, allowing Erica to tug him out of the bar. Stiles followed more slowly, scanning the crowd yet again. He finally found the figure that had been on the balcony. It was Kate. He deliberately turned his back on her and walked back to his hotel.

Erica and Derek were already in his room when he made it up the stairs.

Stiles locked the door and then stood by it, awkwardly staring at Derek sitting on his bed, Erica next to him.

“So,” Stiles said at the same time Derek said, “Why are you here?”

“I’m here because your mother wanted a bodyguard familiar with the area to accompany you on your annual visit to your grandmother. She felt that threats against the royal family had increased and she wanted to ensure your safety. I am interviewing for that position.”

“Okay,” Derek said.

“‘Okay’? That’s it?”

“Yes. I asked you why you were here and you explained.”

“Okay,” Stiles said. “So?”

“Why’d you stand me up tonight?”

“What?”

Erica smacked Derek’s arm. “Did you ask out the hot foreigner?”

“Yes,” Derek said. “He’s my type.”

“Huh,” Stiles said, wincing at the high squeak at the end of his voice. “That’s, uh, that’s nice. Flattering really. But, since I’m interviewing for a position where I’ll be protecting you, I don’t think it would be appropriate at all for me to accept any affections from you.”

“True,” Derek agreed. He stood up and Erica stood up too. “It was nice to run into you again. I hope you receive the position.” He winked at Stiles. “It’ll be fun trying to get you to change your mind.”

Stiles shook both their hands and then locked the door behind them. “Jesus, that boy is a heart attack waiting to happen,” he muttered, heading for the bathroom to change out of his clubbing clothes.

When he came back out, wrapped in only a robe, he found Kate Argent sitting on his bed.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, checking out of the window as surreptitiously as he could. “The risk is too great.”

“Relax,” Kate said. “I just brought you more money.” She showed him another envelope. Stiles reached to take it from her, but she pulled it back at the last moment. “I need to know that you can do what I’m asking.”

Stiles nodded, opening his briefcase and pulling out a cigarette wrapper. He wrote, in pencil, his observations so far, that he was a shoe-in for Derek’s bodyguard and that Derek apparently had an open mind when it came to cheating.

Kate nodded, offering Stiles a lighter. He refused and pulled out his own.

“You need to go. The Lýkos royal guard will be here soon to interview me about the incident tonight.”

“Oh, yes.” Kate’s smile told of an involvement in the plot, but Stiles couldn’t reveal her without dragging himself out of his fabricated shadows. It was a precarious position to be in, but it was a position of Stiles’ own making. “How did you manage to catch that?”

“Pure dumb luck,” Stiles said. “Now, get out.”

Kate held up her hands. “I’m going, relax.” She stood up. “Thank you for doing this. It really means a lot to me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just remember that if I go down, I’m taking you down with me.” It wasn’t a threat but an occupational hazard.

Kate shot him a mock salute before she exited his room through the door to the balcony.

Not a second too late as there was a knock on Stiles’ room’s front door. He shot a worried glance at the balcony before he hurried to open the door a sliver. As expected, it was Boyd and the royal guard officer from the club.

“Just give me a sec to get dressed,” Stiles said.

“Certainly,” Boyd said. Stiles closed the door and scrambled around until he was wearing a fresh outfit. He reopened the door five minutes later and invited them into his room.

“What did you want to ask me?”

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Boyd said, pointing at the cigarette paper still in Stiles’ hand.

“Oh, this? Yeah. I find sometimes it helps clear my mind.” He put the paper back in his bag, zipping it shut. “I’ll probably roll one and smoke it later.”

Boyd nodded, and Stiles sighed internally. Then, they settled, the royal guard officers on the bed while Stiles sat at the desk. The interview was short, concise, with Stiles walking them through his night from the moment he walked into the club. He left out the parts about Kate and Derek’s flirtatiousness.

Afterward, once Boyd and the other Lýkos officer had left with his statement, Stiles rolled a pinch of tobacco into the paper, stepping out onto the balcony to smoke it quickly.

If things didn’t go to shit soon, he would be surprised.

~ * ~

The invite to the castle was delivered to Stiles’ door shortly after he finished his shower. He hadn’t even had time to eat breakfast.

Stiles tamped down the twisting feeling of guilt that was knotting his stomach. This was just a job. Nothing special. Plenty of other times he’d had a mark fall for him. Stiles could be charming when he wanted.

It was new to have a mark fall in love with him just because he was their “type.”

He dreaded having to tell Derek’s mother about her son’s plan to seduce his bodyguard, if Stiles was indeed hired as Derek’s bodyguard. The way things had been going, he was becoming less confident in his abilities.

Talia was waiting for him when Boyd showed him in.

“I heard about last night,” the queen said. “Thank you for saving my son.” She waved a hand at Boyd and he bowed before leaving.

“I am sure you’re aware that my family is being targeted.”

“I’ve heard,” Stiles said.

“You are my only candidate for Derek’s bodyguard,” the queen continued. “As of right now, I want to get him out of the country as soon as possible. It’s not safe for him here. Not when they’ve gotten to someone like Matthew Daehler, who grew up with Derek. My other children haven’t been targeted.”

“Yet,” Stiles added. “A suggestion, if I may, Your Majesty?”

“Speak.”

“The child that has been most targeted is Derek. Much of the world with royalty still puts emphasis on the male heir. Now, I know that Derek has no aspirations for nor is he in line for the throne. But, outsiders working to influence politics in your country may not share that same information.”

“If that is the case, then I should let my son be targeted to save my daughters. Is that what you are saying?”

Stiles shook his head. “Not at all. You should take every precaution to protect all your children,” he said, “but I’m sure you already have plans in place. You just need someone familiar with the area to which Derek is traveling to protect him on his trip.”

“Yes. Since you are the only candidate and Derek’s trip nears, you have officially passed all tests.” She stood up, reaching behind the throne for a sheathed sword. Stiles knelt, bowing his head while she pulled the blade free.

She tapped him on either side of his shoulders, reciting, “Mieczysław Stilinski, for the honor of protecting my son, and for the due diligence you have already presented at this task, I hereby solemnly do knight you in the name of Lýkos and her peoples. Arise, Sir Stilinski.”

Stiles stood, accepting the re-sheathed blade. “It is an honor I shall serve,” he said, inclining his head again.

“Wonderful. You may return to your room to pack your belongings. Derek leaves for California tonight.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said, bowing deeply. He turned and marched out of the throne room, handing the blade to Boyd. “I can’t take that through customs yet,” he explained. “Thank you.”

~ * ~

The airport was just as humid as the first day Stiles had arrived here. Derek, along with a handful of Lýkos royal guard officers, stood at the observation window.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be here,” Derek said to Stiles’ reflection. “My mother spoke to me earlier and said that I was out of line.” He turned around and offered his hand. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I will keep my comments to myself from now. I will also not make your job harder than it has to be.”

Stiles accepted his hand for a few quick shakes. “Apology accepted.”

“You are boarding now,” one of the officers said. Stiles remembered him from the throne room and the queen’s test. Derek grabbed a small duffle bag by his feet, offering Stiles a shy smile as he headed past him to the doors.

“If it’s any consolation, sir, he puts all the new guards through their paces,” the officer said. “He doesn’t mean to be difficult, but I think he misses his father and this is his way of acting out.”

Stiles nodded and vowed to ignore the officer’s unsolicited advice. He joined Derek on the tarmac. The prince looked rattled as he watched the plane sitting there.

Stiles nudged him. “What’s wrong?”

Derek shrugged. “The last time I flew, last year, I had a guest. She was…not nice. Normally I can handle a little turbulence, but the flight home last time was really bad and she wouldn’t leave me alone.” He squared his shoulders and marched toward the plane. Stiles picked up his pace to match.

“Window seat?” he asked, and Derek nodded. “I’ll be right next to you. If you need anything from me, just let me know.”

“Thank you,” Derek said, softly, and then ignored Stiles the rest of the flight. Stiles didn’t mind. As long as Derek didn’t need him, he was content to read the magazines he’d stuck in his suitcase back in Los Angeles.

Once they touched down, after their sixteen hour flight, Derek and Stiles stumbled into an airport lounge and ordered a basket of fries and a couple of sodas.

“How was the flight?” Stiles asked when Derek did nothing more than chew his straw.

“It was better,” he admitted. “How was your flight?”

“Aside from my seat mate not speaking to me the entire time, it was fine,” Stiles joked.

Derek looked a little ashamed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I promise to be a better conversationalist on the flight home.”

“It’s fine,” Stiles assured him. “Thank you though. So, your grandmother. Tell me a little about her.”

“She’s a typical grandmother.” Derek shrugged. “She likes to knit and she tells stories about my dad. Laura is her favorite grandchild. She’s lonely there but she hates the humidity of Lýkos. It aggravates her joints.”

“So you visit once a year.”

“We all do, but we stagger it. She gets a visitor for a week every month.” His jaw cracked with a wide yawn. Stiles smiled down at his fries.

“Do you usually have a hotel while you’re here?”

“I stay with friends. Where are you supposed to stay?”

“Since I’m your bodyguard, I’m staying with you.”

“Can we take a nap first?” Derek asked. “I hate flying for so long.”

“Give me the address. I’ll drive.”

Derek grabbed a napkin, frowning down at it for a moment before scribbling an address and passing it to Stiles. “It’s nearby. My friend Sammy. We, uh, we used to be a thing awhile back.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Stiles asked. Might as well find other accommodations just in case.

“I don’t think so. He’s never mentioned anything. Last I knew he’d moved on with a boyfriend.”

“Do you have a backup plan in case Sammy falls through?”

“Not really.”

Stiles shook his head. “Fine. Backup is my apartment.” Which just made his job easier. All he had to do was divert Derek, not let his family back in Lýkos know, and then find a place to hide the body.

He could start anew with the money from Kate. His conscience would be hard to drown out but he’d done it before. He could do it again.

“Should we call him?” he asked Derek. “Make sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” Derek pulled out his phone, powering it on.

Stiles noted the number he dialed, putting it into his own phone under the cover of the table.

Sammy answered on the fourth ring.

Derek’s conversation was quick, and he set his phone down with a puzzled look on his face.

“He says he got engaged and that his fiancé doesn’t like me.”

“What?” Stiles’ luck should not be that good. Usually he had to engineer situations to fit the job. Everything about this was falling too easily into line. Something was wrong. Someone else was pulling the strings.

“Get up. Now. Come on,” Stiles snapped when Derek stayed seated. The prince stared at him balefully.

“I’m tired.”

“So am I. Get up.”

Derek finally did, angrily stuffing more fries into his mouth before he let Stiles lead him out into the cool evening air. Stiles kept a hand on Derek’s lower back, steering him toward the inconspicuous vehicle he’d picked out before they’d settled at the lounge.

“Let me go, I can walk,” Derek said sullenly. Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness squirming in his gut.

“Shut up and stay down.”

Derek allowed Stiles to push him into the front seat, sinking to the floor without being prompted. He set the chair back so that he had more room, but he didn’t do anything else, not even when Stiles threw his jacket over his head.

Their bags were in the backseat, and Stiles wished there was a way that he could disguise the fact that he had two of them. It would make it easier to shake his tail, which he had yet to actually see.

Still, he took a winding route to his apartment. Sammy was compromised. Probably Derek’s grandmother as well.

To manipulate the situation as well as these unknowns had meant that they were well-connected.

Stiles had a feeling he knew who was playing puppet master, and it was the same person who’d hired him: Kate Argent.

Her agenda was something more than hiring a private investigator to spy on her cheating husband. He knew that she’d hired him to kill Derek from the outset. Why was still unknown but Stiles could hazard a guess that it had something to do with Lýkos’ progression to the throne.

If the queen was grieving the loss of her only son, her attention divided between her country and seeking answers for Derek’s murder, then Lýkos would be more susceptible to a coup or an invading party.

Gerard Argent had designs on the tiny island nation. Kate’s motivations were suspect. Was she planning on ruling with her father or did she plan to overthrow him as soon as she could? With an international murder under his belt, would she keep Stiles on a short leash? She hadn’t been pleased that he’d thwarted her attempt on Derek back in Lýkos.

“Are you going to kill me?” Derek asked from under the jacket nearly thirty minutes into their deviated journey.

“No,” Stiles said, less a promise and more a situational truth. He hadn’t saved Derek from an invisible threat back at the airport just to off him at the first car park he came across.

“You don’t sound sure,” Derek said. “What happened back there? Was there someone coming after us?”

“‘Us’?” Stiles repeated. “Buddy, you’re the one with a giant target on your back.”

“ _Are_ you going to kill me?”

“No,” Stiles said with more conviction. “I am not going to kill you. I’m trying to save you.”

“Who hired you?”

“Your mother hired me to protect you.”

“I know _that_ ,” Derek said, tugging the jacket from his face.

“Hey!”

“What I want to know is who hired you? Was it Kate?”

“Kate?”

“Argent. I saw her at the club back home, before Matt tried to drug me.”

Stiles could continue to play dumb, but as long as he had Derek, he could use him for information. It was an easy choice to make. “When did you and Kate get married?”

“We’re not married,” Derek said, confused. “My mother wouldn’t ever approve of the union.”

There were two things wrong with that statement. Stiles addressed the lesser issue first. “You can’t marry a non-royal?”

 “I can,” Derek said, “but only if it’s a love-match. I’m not in love with Kate. She’s trying to increase her worth in politics while her father is trying to use her to usurp my mother’s rule. I broke up with her within a week of dating.” He turned an assessing eye on Stiles. “Did she tell you we were married?”

A look of horror crossed his face before Stiles could say anything.

“Oh, fuck, you _are_ going to kill me!”

“No I’m not,” Stiles said. “Kate may have hired me to do that, but she lied to me, which makes our contract void. Of course, I get to keep all the money she has paid me. Occupational hazard.”

Derek did not look comforted by that revelation. Stiles sighed.

“Fine. We’re going to my apartment. I’m going to contact your mother to get you home. Don’t worry, I’ll stick around to help keep you safe.”

“I’d feel safer without you,” Derek said.

Stiles couldn’t quite explain why his stomach fell at that sentiment. Maybe it was because despite the stilted and biased information he’d been given, nothing about Derek necessitated Kate’s response of murder. Stiles had only two rules he played by: one, don’t lie to him and two, he didn’t kill innocents.

“I’d feel safer if I was with you,” he said. Derek snorted and ducked back under the jacket.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

~ * ~

Derek wouldn’t even look at Stiles when they finally made it to Stiles’ apartment. He sank down onto the couch and stared at the wall without acknowledging Stiles for the half an hour it took to get a pizza delivered.

Derek’s plate was still untouched when Stiles got out of the shower (a bare three minutes later, but the sentiment still stood).

“You can take the bed,” Stiles offered. Derek nodded sharply, standing and marching to the bedroom.

“Are you sure you don’t want to check it out, make sure there’s not someone in there to kill me?” The coldness in his voice was unmistakable.

“I have an electronic monitoring system. Nothing gets in here that I don’t know about.”

“Fantastic.” Derek slammed the door behind him.

Stiles sighed. He waited a few seconds to see if Derek would reemerge. When he didn’t, he turned to the leftover pizza.

A few moments later, he had the box torn down and stuffed into the recycling bin and the rest of it parceled into Tupperware containers.

Then, he walked the perimeter of his building, scoping out the nearby buildings for places where a sniper could hide. He’d installed bulletproof glass in his apartment, but some of the higher calibers could still punch through.

If Kate had gotten to Sammy, a long-time friend of Derek’s, there was no telling to what extent she’d go to see Derek dead.

Stiles could not afford to relax. His profession meant that even when he wasn’t on a job, he was still on alert. To shake Kate, he only had one option: kill the threat.

He sent a text to the contact number, asking to meet at _Andie’s_ , the bar near his office. No reason to compromise his location if she didn’t know where they’d gone after the airport.

Kate answered quickly, agreeing to meet, much to Stiles’ surprise.

She could be trying to pull something on him. He was 95% sure that she was behind Sammy’s sudden abandoning of his friend. Certainly, she had been behind the attempted drugging by Matthew Daehler back in Lýkos’ bar.

Two could play that game.

Stiles swung back past the apartment, checking in on Derek. His charge was asleep on his stomach, blanket over his head, socked feet out from under the covers.

Stiles quietly closed the door, setting his alarm. It wouldn’t do anything except send a text to his phone if it was tripped. Stiles could respond faster than the police, and he trusted no one but himself if it just so happened that Kate had an associate to attack Derek once Stiles left him alone.

He slipped a small bottle from his medicine cabinet into his front pocket. He knew without a doubt that one of them wasn’t going to be leaving _Andie’s_ tonight outside of a body bag.

_Andie’s Bar and Grill_ was more than good food. Stiles ate there at least once a week, the only order to his schedule. People would recognize him, but that was okay because Stiles would never set foot in here again. He mourned the loss of their Rueben as he scanned the room, looking for Kate.

She was at a table tucked into the far corner. It was Stiles’ favorite table because it had an unobstructed view of all the exits and the bathrooms and it didn’t allow for people to sneak up on him. Since Kate had her back to the wall, Stiles slid into the seat across from her. It put him at a disadvantage, but that was more than likely her intention. Kate was wearing the same dress as the night in Lýkos, and Stiles smiled to himself. It was, Stiles thought, her way of taking responsibility for Daehler’s actions.

“Darling,” Kate said, blowing a kiss across the table. “This is not the way to do business.”

“Neither is hiring someone to drug someone else. At least have the guts to do it yourself.”

“Oh, is that what you would have done?” Kate asked, sipping at a brightly colored drink. She set it down and pushed it toward Stiles, almost daring him.

He grinned, pushing it back. “No thanks. I like my alcohol with a little less food coloring.”

“Suit yourself.” Kate picked up her glass and drained it in one swallow. Then, she flagged the waiter for a refill. Stiles ordered a whiskey, neat to go with it. He wouldn’t be drinking, but Kate was already on her way to sloshed. She wasn’t a sloppy drunk by any means; she was still put together and her words were only slightly slurred. But, from the look of the waiter, the drink he set before Kate wasn’t even close to being her second drink of the night.

It made it almost too easy to slide her glass to his side of the table and palm the vial so that he could pour the contents into it.

He lifted her glass and pretended to sip from it, grimacing and smacking his lips. “How can you stand that thing?” he said, giving it back to her.

Kate shrugged, downing the drink quickly again. When she tried to signal for another, Stiles covered her hand.

After a long moment, she pulled free. “I’ve had enough,” she agreed. “Well, that was fun. Anyway. You wanted to meet me?”

Stiles nodded. “I need more information. I can’t seem to find a reason for you to bump me up to a knock off. You never hired me just to follow your husband, did you?”

Kate shook her head. “Smart. Should have known with a reputation like yours. People talk about you, you know. Not by name, just by deeds.” Kate paused, snorting to herself about something or other. Stiles waited patiently.

He had time. Kate didn’t.

“I’m just like you,” she said, leaning over the table, staring intently at Stiles. She poked his hand, whispering, “I’ve killed people too.”

Stiles surreptitiously glanced around, but _Andie’s_ was crowded enough that no one was paying them any attention.

When he focused on Kate again, he could see the glassy look in her eyes, the waxy sheen of her skin. She frowned for a moment before shaking it off, sitting up.

“I killed my father. So that’s one thing I won’t have to get you to do. See? Guts.”

“You killed your own father? Why?”

“He was in my way. So is Derek. But, while my father is a citizen of the United States, Derek Hale is an international incident waiting to happen. That’s why I needed you to get rid of him.”

“So, you’ll take patricide over plain homicide. Why?”

Kate snorted. “I’d kill my father over a jar of mayonnaise, and I’d don’t even like the shit. No, I needed someone else to take the fall for killing Derek Hale because if I want my career as an ambassador to continue then I couldn’t be responsible for a royal’s death.”

“I was always just a scapegoat?”

“Always,” Kate confirmed. “But, once my position as the ambassador to Lýkos is cemented, I can offer you immunity.”

“For committing a murder you don’t want associated with you?” Stiles settled back in his chair, spinning his glass, pretending to mull it over. “Other than immunity, what’s in it for me?”

“ _Other_ than immunity?” Kate asked incredulous. “What else than immunity could you want?”

Stiles smiled. “You’re right. There is nothing else I could want. Except not killing an innocent person.” He stood up, pulling out a couple of bills to cover his untouched drink.

“You haven’t killed that worm yet?” Kate demanded, struggling to her feet. She wavered wildly, knocking against the table. Stiles steadied her with a hand on her arm. “You won’t get away with that. I’ve got people ready to take you out.”

“Oh, so to be murdered by you or your proxy, you have to be a citizen of this country. Good news for Derek then I guess.”

“I’ll kill you myself,” Kate said, lunging around the table. Stiles stepped back, letting her fall. She convulsed for a moment before becoming still. Stiles knelt down, checking her pulse. Thready, weak, hard to find. She’d be dead before help could arrive.

“Someone call an ambulance!” he yelled, rolling her onto her side and settling her into the recovery position. He pocketed their glasses during the ensuing panic.

He would have to make his escape before the paramedics arrived, and he could count on people’s natural curiosity to give him cover. Indeed, he only had to wait a few seconds before the other patrons pressed forward, gawking and chattering at Kate’s misfortune.

Stiles stepped back, sliding between bystanders until he could slip out the door unnoticed.

He detoured to his office to wash the glasses and smash them into a trash bag which he then threw in a supermarket dumpster three miles from the bar.

Dawn was starting to show by the time he made it back to his apartment.

The windows were all intact and the apartment still alarmed.

Stiles entered, reset the alarm, and opened his bedroom door.

Derek was sound asleep, curled onto his side, hands tucked under his cheek.

The blanket had slipped down to his waist, revealing that he liked to sleep at least shirtless. It was cooler in here than the rest of the apartment, so Stiles gently eased the blanket up over his shoulders before he quietly left. He sank onto the couch, rubbing at his face. This day had been far too long.

~ * ~

Stiles woke up when Derek accidentally dropped a pan onto the floor.

He stumbled into the kitchen, freezing at the sight of Derek (who had put his shirt back on) staring down at a frying pan upside down in the middle of Stiles’ kitchen. There were splatters of egg yolks across the linoleum, and a half-pack of bacon sat by the stove.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. “I was trying to be helpful.”

“It’s okay. Are you okay?”

Derek shrugged. “I’m fine. Sorry about your floor.”

“It’ll clean.” Or not. Stiles wasn’t sure how much longer he would stay here. He needed to check on the Kate-situation and he still had to get Derek back to Lýkos safely.

“Just go sit down. I’ll make something quick. Do you want to go have a shower?”

Derek nodded, glancing down at the mess as he passed it. “I’m not completely useless, I swear.”

“I believe you. Go, take a shower. It’ll help you feel better before we have to go back to your country.”

Derek paused in the doorway. “Why?”

“Why what? Wouldn’t you feel safer back at home without me around you?”

“Maybe,” Derek said cryptically, grabbing his bag and heading for the bathroom.

Stiles waited until he heard the water turn on before he scooped the frying pan up, dumping the contents into the trash. He mopped the floor with a towel, throwing it into the washing machine.

Derek came back just as he was cracking eggs into a new pan. He sat at the little breakfast nook, watching Stiles cook with a blank expression.

He muttered quiet thanks when Stiles slid a plate in front of him.

Derek waited until Stiles sat down with his own plate before he began eating. Stiles smiled at that. Derek was still his prisoner, but he’d already tried being helpful.

“Where’d you go last night?” Derek asked when Stiles had a mouthful of bacon.

Stiles swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“Last night. I woke up and you were gone.”

Stiles shoved his plate away. “Did you do anything?” he asked.

“No. I mean, I poked my head out, but I couldn’t find you.”

“And you went back to bed?”

Derek nodded. “I thought you’d pop out of nowhere and then you’d kill me.” He took their plates to the sink, setting them down carefully. “It’s why I was trying to make breakfast: to appease you.”

He turned around, and Stiles saw then how vulnerable Derek was making himself, the emotion naked on his face.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Stiles said softly. “You don’t know me. It’s okay. I swear to you, I will not kill you. My goal now is to return you to your country safely. I understand if you can’t trust me on that, but in the business I am, my word means almost more than my skills.”

“You’re a hired assassin,” Derek said. “Kate hired you to kill me.”

“I am not going to kill you, Derek, I promise you. Let me get you back to your home to prove it to you.”

“No,” Derek said.

“No?” Stiles repeated.

“No. If you truly mean what you say, then there is no harm in me visiting my grandmother as planned. If you won’t kill me, then I won’t go.”

“If that’s what it takes,” Stiles muttered. Louder, he said, “We can visit your grandmother, but I still want to get you back to Lýkos soon.”

“Okay,” Derek agreed. “Can we stop by and see Sammy too? I know he said his fiancé doesn’t like me, but how could he? He’s never met me.”

“Some people are just assholes.” Stiles sighed. “Fine, yes, we can detour to see your friend.”

Derek nodded sharply. “Thank you.”

Stiles shook his head. He thought Sammy wasn’t worth Derek’s time, but he couldn’t make Derek’s decisions for him. All he could do was keep him safe while he was still in his care.

Stiles wished he’d never taken Kate’s offer. The only good thing to come of it was he’d gotten to meet Derek. Not even the money was worth it.

He sighed again, pushing himself up. He hadn’t gotten near enough sleep before Derek woke him up, and he could feel it in the headache pounding behind his eyes.

He needed to rest before they went anywhere.

Derek would be disappointed, but he could deal. If Stiles was going to keep him safe, he needed to be at his peak.

Surprisingly, Derek agreed to staying for a few hours. He pulled out a small electronic gaming device.

“My sister Cora is usually online now. She likes to play games against me because I always lose.” He settled onto the couch, waving Stiles toward the bedroom. “I promise not to run away. You know, since you promised not to kill me.” Derek winked at him, and then focused his attention on his game.

Stiles stood still in shock. If he’d thought Derek’s smile was something special, it was nothing compared to being fucking winked at and then ignored like he was nothing.

Stiles was too sleep deprived to deal with it right now. Maybe in an hour he could. Right now, all he could do was leave Derek to his game and go crawl into his bed.

~ * ~

Derek woke him up ninety minutes later.

“Sammy called,” he said, flipping the light on. Stiles covered his eyes. He was awake—had been since Derek had opened the door. “He said something about needing to see me.”

“Okay. Let me brush my teeth first.” Stiles coughed, sitting up. Derek was already gone. “Shit.” Stiles hurried out to the living room.

Derek was sitting on the couch, staring at space.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly, approaching him with both his hands held in a nonthreatening position. “What’s going on?”

“Sammy said his fiancée died last night. He’s really broken up about it. Apparently they were together for three years. How could I not have met her in three years? Are Sammy and I really not friends anymore?”

“People change,” Stiles said, sitting next to him. “Wait, I thought Sammy’s fiancée was a man?”

“No, apparently he got engaged to a woman. My mistake.”

Stiles frowned. He wondered if Kate hadn’t been Sammy’s fiancée. It would give her the perfect opportunity to control where Derek was supposed to go once he got to California, but to be in a relationship for three years, especially with someone who had no political power? That did not sound like Kate.

“Derek, how long ago did you and Kate Argent date?”

“A year or so? She’s been hanging around again because her father is still the ambassador to Lýkos.”

“And you really never met Sammy’s fiancée even though they’ve been together for three years?”

“You have that look on your face,” Derek said, frowning at him.

“What look?”

“That look you got at the airport before you made me sit on the floor of your car. You’re figuring something out. Are we in danger again?”

“Doubtful,” Stiles said. “If Sammy’s fiancée is who I think she is, then we should be safe for a little while.”

Kate probably had some provision in place in case of her death, but Stiles was banking on her overconfidence to have left a bit of a window through which they could stroll. Of course, they wouldn’t be helped by Derek’s insistence to see his grandmother.

“I suppose you want to check on Sammy now?”

Derek nodded. “He’s my friend even through it all. I’d like to make sure he’s okay. He doesn’t really have a support group since his parents disowned him.”

“Okay,” Stiles said against his better judgment. “We’ll visit Sammy as long as you understand that we can’t stay for long, and if I think we’re in danger we’re leaving immediately.”

“Deal.”

Stiles studied Derek, suspicious. He was expecting more resistance. “You’re sure?” he asked. “You won’t throw a fit if I say it’s time to go and we’ve only just arrived?”

Derek’s face shuttered. “I’m not a spoiled brat,” he said. “You keep pulling the floor from under my feet and expecting me to dance. How would you feel if I did the same thing to you?”

“My job right now is to keep you safe, not worry about your feelings,” Stile said sternly.

Derek glared at him before picking up a shoe and throwing it at him. “That is a top insult in my country,” he said. “It means you should worry about yourself before you try to change others. Or in your customs, you’re a nosy asshole.”

Derek didn’t slam the door behind him and that somehow made Stiles feel worse. Derek was upset, and he had every right to be; he’d been the target of an assassination plot. But Stiles wasn’t going to change his policy of protection.

Stiles sighed, running a hand over his face. The sooner he got Derek back to Lýkos, the better for them both.

If only it could be as simple as driving back to the airport and sticking Derek on a plane.

~ * ~

Sammy ugly sobbed on Derek’s shoulder the moment he opened the door.

Stiles gently pushed them inside and settled them on the couch. “I’m going to make some tea,” he told Derek, who waved him away.

Stiles used the opportunity to snoop through Sammy’s house. There were no pictures of any women aside from a dark haired beauty that reminded Stiles strongly of Derek. An aunt perhaps?

He snapped a picture with his phone, a different burner cell than the one he’d used with Kate, before moving to the bedroom. Here, he found a messy bed, cologne and perfume clinging to the bedding.

The closet was open, shirts spilling out as if someone had tried pulling them free. Tucked away in the back was a singular dress. Dark blue, off the shoulder, knee length. Stiles could see Kate wearing something like this.

But, aside from the dress and perfume, there was no evidence of a woman having lived here.

Stiles returned to the living room, finding that Sammy and Derek were now more than two feet apart, neither looking at the other.

“But why?” Derek was asking.

Sammy sighed. “She was beautiful, and she really liked me. But whenever I talked about you, she always made some excuse to badmouth you. I got tired of it. And I saw her more regularly than I saw you. I was in love. I shouldn’t have let her cut you out of my life, but she was my fiancée. She was the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. You were a summer fling, and you’d always be a summer fling.”

“I think I sort of understand,” Derek said.

“I don’t,” Stiles said. “You don’t have any pictures of anyone else in your house. Why?”

Derek glared at him. “I thought you were going to make tea?” he said in a tone that implied Stiles had better produce some tea right now or go make some.

“Who’s this?” Stiles shoved the phone under Derek’s nose.

“Why do you have a picture of my great-grandmother?”

“Ask Sammy.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, and Sammy ducked his head.

“Your mom wouldn’t let me have any pictures of you, so your grandmother found one of her mom that looked enough like you, if I looked hard enough.”

“Summer fling, huh?” Derek asked, a bitter twist to his lips.

“I was in love with you,” Sammy said. “I still am. But I don’t know if your mom would approve. She never liked me.”

“My mom liked you fine until we fucked,” Derek said bluntly. “She thought we were friends, to have to realize that we were doing more physical things was a bit of a slap to her. She was madder at me because I didn’t tell her.”

“Sammy, who was your fiancée? I can’t seem to find any pictures of her in here. You were together for a number of years.”

“Kate didn’t like her picture being taken.” Derek’s head shot up, and he stared at Sammy before turning to Stiles, suspicion darkening his gaze. Sammy continued, unaware, “Every time I tried, she’d always get the pictures and destroy them. Eventually, I gave up. I figured I’d get at least a wedding photo at the ceremony.”

“Sammy,” Derek asked. “Is Kate’s last name Argent?”

“Yeah,” Sammy said.

Derek stood up. “You knew this,” he accused Stiles, glaring at him. “ _You knew this_. That’s why you wanted to come here. Tell me, how did Kate die?”

“Why do you think he knows?” Sammy glanced between Derek and Stiles, panicking.

“Because he killed her,” Derek said. “She hired him to kill me.”

“What?!”

“What makes you think I killed her?” Stiles asked.

“You left during the night, remember?”

“I was checking on the perimeter. I didn’t know if Kate decided to hire another assassin to take you out. Yes, that takes time. No, I didn’t kill Kate. I don’t even know what she died of.”

“Cardiac arrest,” Sammy supplied. “She died of a damn heart attack. I didn’t know she had a bad heart.”

Derek eyed Stiles suspiciously but he abated, sinking back onto the couch. “Tea?” he asked after a beat of silence.

“I’ll get it,” Sammy offered. “It’s so strange to think that Kate won’t be home tonight. I mean, usually she isn’t ‘cause she’s always traveling, but she texted me that she was back in town yesterday and we were supposed to meet for breakfast today.”

Sammy bustled off to the kitchen.

“I’m worried for him,” Derek confessed when Stiles sat next to him. “He’s always been prone to pushing his feelings down until they all converge at once. When I had to go back Lýkos after our summer together, I thought I’d come back to a grave. This feels more dire than that.”

“We could probably take him to Lýkos if you wanted to keep an eye on him.”

Sammy returned before Derek replied. He handed Derek a mug and then settled on the coffee table. “You can stay with me now I guess. I mean, it’s not like my fiancée—Kate—is going to object, right?”

Derek shot a look at Stiles, an unspoken plea in his eyes. Stiles sighed. This was a monumentally bad idea. He’d never babysat a target for this long, nor had he ever increased his workload by taking on another charge.

“Actually,” Stiles said, regretting every word, “you can come stay with us. When we return to Lýkos, you are invited to join us.”

“I don’t know where Kate put my passport,” Sammy said. “She wouldn’t let me keep it.”

“Why not?” Stiles asked at the same time that Derek said, “And you were going to marry her?”

“I don’t know why, to either question. Look, I just lost the woman I love. I shouldn’t be facing an interrogation.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said, as sincere as he could, “but I need to establish that Kate didn’t leave a plan to eliminate you in case of her death.”

“I thought you said you had nothing to do with her death,” Derek reminded him.

Stiles sighed. “I think we’re all positive I absolutely had something to do with her death. Kate Argent isn’t the type of person to keel over unexpectedly.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I need to make a call. I can’t be a bodyguard and hunt down Kate’s accomplices.”

“What makes you so sure Kate had accomplices?” Sammy demanded.

“Because Kate tried to get to me before she decided to hire Stiles to kill me,” Derek said gently. “Last year, she approached me with an offer of dating.”

“You’re lying,” Sammy spit. “Kate would never—”

“Wouldn’t she though?” Stiles interrupted. “You lived with her for three years. You’ve had time to get to know her. Wouldn’t she try to get ahead in life by any means necessary?”

“By that logic,” Derek added, “her engagement to you was only to further her politics. Sammy, you were always her pawn.”

“So were you.” Sammy grabbed the tea he’d given Derek and stomped back to the kitchen.

Derek turned to Stiles. “I do think we should at least offer to house him in my country. I can ask my mother for an expedited visa.”

“It’s a small country,” Stiles said doubtfully. “And he seems a little mad at you.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Sammy said sitting down again. He glared at Stiles. “I’ll need time to process the death of the woman I loved, but if you think I’m in danger, I’ll go where you need me to.” He cut a quick glance at Derek, gaze softening. “Even if it’s Lýkos.”

“Go, make your phone call,” Derek said. “I’ll help Sammy pack.”

“Are you sure?” It wasn’t that Stiles thought they’d kill each other before he returned, but he didn’t trust the windows in Sammy’s house, and there were a lot of them.

“Go.” Derek pointed at the door.

Stiles gave them both one more assessing look before he stepped out, yet another burner cell in his hand.

~ * ~

Stiles circled the block, checking for sniper hideouts and suspicious people. He didn’t find anything out of the ordinary, but then again, Kate had only been dead for approximately six hours now. It was still early enough that her possible associates hadn’t mobilized yet.

He returned to the front of Sammy’s house and dialed the international number for the consulate in Lýkos. The building, according to Kate’s info, was manned constantly, and even though it was nearly half past one in the morning there, the phone was answered quickly.

“This is Isaac,” the young, male voice on the other end said. “You have reached the island of Lýkos. How may I direct your call?”

“Isaac,” Stiles said, thinking of the kid hanging off Cora Hale. He could imagine that lanky boy being the owner of this crackling voice. “I need to speak to Sir Boyd as soon as possible.”

“Let me page him for you. Are you okay with being on hold for a few minutes?”

“No. I’ll call back in ten minutes. That’s enough time to round him up, yes?”

“Certainly, sir. I await your call in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Isaac.” Stiles tucked the phone back into his pocket. He patrolled the perimeter of Sammy’s property again, nodding to the few neighbors he saw craning their necks at him.

Eleven minutes had elapsed by the time he finished his round, and he punched in the number for the Lýkos consulate.

Isaac answered again.

“Is Sir Boyd available?”

“Yes sir, he is. As is Her Royal Majesty Queen Talia.”

Stiles groaned to himself. He would have hoped to communicate only with Boyd, but considering what he had to tell him, it was just as well the queen was there too.

“You are now on speaker,” Isaac informed him. “Please proceed.”

“How many ears are in the room?” Stiles asked.

“The Queen, the radio communications officer, and myself, Mr. Stilinski,” Boyd replied.

“Can the radio communications officer step out please?”

“How sensitive is the information you are trying to convey?”

“Very.”

“The radio communications officer must remain then. He will encrypt the signal. Please remain on the line for two minutes.”

Stiles rubbed at his forehead. The cost of this call was going to seriously eat into his savings. Maybe it would be better to just jump on the next flight to Lýkos and talk to the queen in person.

By the time he’d decided to go get Derek and Sammy, Boyd came back on the line. “Our communication is now secure. Please state the nature of your call.”

“I am calling to report the death of Kate Argent, the woman who hired Matthew Daehler to drug the prince.”

“How did she die?” Talia asked.

“Officially, I do not know,” Stiles said. “Unofficially, she was poisoned. Prior to her passing, she disclosed that she had hired an assassin to murder your son, hence the attack on his life in your country. I can safely transport him back to Lýkos within the day. I cannot ensure that Kate Argent did not have other accomplices in place.”

“The assassin,” Talia said. “Would you happen to be that person?”

“If I was, wouldn’t your son already be dead?” Stiles countered. “No, Kate Argent did not hire me to kill your son.”

“How did you come to our country then? You did not come as a tourist as many do, but as a contender for the position of bodyguard.”

“I was hired to follow Derek, to determine if he was having an affair.”

“By whom?”

“A former flame of Derek’s.”

“Kate Argent.”

Talia sounded sure. Stiles knew he would not change her mind.

“No,” he said, one last time, a farce and they both knew it.

“What do you want? Do you want money? Power? Fame? Tell me what I have to do to get my son back.”

“Your son is not for ransom. I am bringing him home, but he wants to see his grandmother before we leave.”

“You stay away from him. Someone from Lýkos is going to collect him. We are reporting you to your government. When I talk to Derek and if you stayed with him, I will seek damages against you.”

“Listen, Your Royal Highness, I am not leaving your son unprotected. I will watch out for him until your person gets here.”

Stiles hung up before Talia could say anything else. Then, he destroyed the phone, scattering some of the pieces in Sammy’s front planters as a “Fuck you” to Talia. He’d burn the chip and trash the battery later.

For now, he’d left Sammy and Derek alone long enough that he was getting nervous.

Back inside Sammy’s house, he found them again on the couch, a couple of travel bags against the wall while Derek dug through a toiletries bag and Sammy stared at the blank television.

“Do you really think Kate’s going to kill me?” Sammy asked.

“Kate herself?” Sammy nodded. “No,” Derek said. “She’s dead. Stiles killed her. And he’ll kill everyone else who comes after you.”

“Are you sure?”

Stiles cuffed Derek on the back of his head. “Stop telling people that I kill people. It’s annoying.”

Derek glared at him. “It’s true though.”

“Not necessarily. Yes, I’m good at my job, but doesn’t mean I am infallible. It’s possible that any of Kate’s associates, if they should exist or she had time to contact them, could take me out. And then where would you be?”

Derek pointed to Sammy’s luggage. “We’re ready to go. We even found Sammy’s passport. All we have to do is check in on my grandmother, and then we can go back to Lýkos. I’m sure my mother will be interested to hear about the development with Kate.”

“So you don’t plan on telling your mother, the queen, about this at all until you get back to Lýkos?” Stiles blew out a frustrated breath. “I think you should at least attempt to update her now.”

Derek pretended to think about it before shaking his head. “She’d make me come home immediately.”

“Which is not a bad thing,” Stiles argued.

“My grandmother is waiting,” Derek said. He stomped outside, the toiletries bag tucked under his arm. Rolling his eyes, Stiles followed. Sammy brought up the rear dragging his suitcases.

Derek fiddled with the GPS while Stiles helped Sammy shove his bags into the trunk of the car.

“Thank you,” Derek said quietly when Stiles climbed into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine.

“I just hope this doesn’t end in death for someone,” Stiles muttered, shooting a worried glance at where Sammy was slumped against the window, eyes closed.

Derek made a sound of agreement, pulling on a spare pair of shades he must have gotten from Sammy, and turning to watch the scenery pass.

Stiles concentrated on driving.

~ * ~

Grandma Valens was a tenacious old woman whose first instinct was to smack Stiles with her walker.

“Grandmother, no,” Derek chastised, hiding his laugh behind his hand. Stiles glowered while he slunk to a safe distance, away from swinging medical equipment.

“Why are you so late?” Grandma Valens demanded. “And why’d you bring Sammy? His girl doesn’t like you, you know.”

“I know, Grandmother.” Derek settled onto the arm of his grandmother’s chair. “But it’s okay now. Sammy is free. He can visit me again.”

“And who’s the goon?” She squinted at Derek, studying the way he ducked his head, blushing.

“Do you like the goon?”

“He’s not a goon,” Derek protested. “He’s my bodyguard.”

“Oh yeah, you’re a prince,” Grandma Valens spit. “Fancy.”

Derek sighed, long suffering. Stiles could relate.

“Grandmother, I am a prince. My mother is the queen.”

“No crown, no jewels, no prince.”

“I can’t wear the crown jewels, Grandmother, they’re for special events.”

“And what do you need with a bodyguard? You’re strong enough. You can fight off any attackers.”

“I’m trained in swordplay, not hand to hand combat like Stiles. I am not allowed to travel with my sword since it is not ceremonial.”

Grandma Valens harrumphed, patting at Derek’s back. “It’s okay, your father was the same way.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “He obviously got it from you.”

“You!”

Stiles walked away. The camaraderie was a bit hard to swallow. Derek looked uncomfortable when his grandmother touched him, and her jibes felt more like jabs. But, Stiles reasoned, he could just be petty since his shin still hurt from where the walker had impacted him.

Time to do a perimeter.

By the time Stiles returned, there was a man talking to Sammy a few steps from where Derek and his grandmother were locked in an intense stare-off.

“Stiles,” Sammy said. “This is Kate’s brother, Chris. He was stopping by to see how I’m doing.”

Stiles shook the man’s hand, noting that he didn’t look particularly broken up about the recent death of his sister. Grief was a funny, malleable thing.

“Nice to put a face to a name,” Chris said.

“I would say likewise, but.” Stiles shrugged. He knew about Chris. He was a supplier of arms to local law enforcement. Stiles had legitimately purchased some of his keeper-pieces through Chris’ retailer. He’d never met the man before now though.

“I understand. I also know you’re probably suspicious about why I’m here,” Chris said. “Follow me.” Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, and Chris laughed. “No. I mean, come on. I want you to meet someone. You too, Sammy.”

 “We’ll come too,” Derek said. He shoved his grandmother’s walker at her, helping her up even as she grumbled and complained. “It’s been a while, Chris. How have you been?”

“Could be better,” Chris replied. “At least it’s not worse. And there’s still no change. At this time, I’m thinking it’d be better to pull the plug and let them have her.”

“His daughter,” Sammy whispered to Stiles. “She was severely injured in a car accident five years ago. Chris was hoping she’d wake up, but the doctors say she’s brain dead.”

“Lýkos has an advanced medical team,” Derek said. “We offered to fly Allison out there, but she wasn’t stable enough. We couldn’t get enough visas for our doctors and our equipment is too volatile to travel.”

“Is that why Kate and Gerard focused on your country? They were trying to save their loved one?”

“No,” Chris said, anger straining his voice, wiping a tear away as he turned around. “My father and sister were focused entirely on their own politics. I could maybe believe that Kate was trying to help Allison except for the fact that I caught her and my father conspiring to prevent the doctors from Lýkos from entering. It was on my father’s recommendation that the visas be denied.”

“Punishment,” Grandma Valens put in. “I recall reading somewhere that Gerard Argent was trying to arm another small nation to invade Lýkos for his own gain.”

“Punishment for what?”

“Punishment for not being the supplier,” Chris said. “I chose my daughter’s well-being over my father’s livelihood and he never forgave me.”

“I guess it should be good news then that Kate confessed she killed him before she died.”

Chris nodded. “I suspected. He was found dead in his New York penthouse the day before yesterday, but it was kept quiet, thought to be a simple robbery.”

“Would it be much of a stretch to theorize that Kate or Gerard arranged for Allison’s accident?”

“I’ve often thought the same thing myself,” Chris admitted, “but there was no proof. The car that hit Allison was driven by a mother of four. The youngest was suffering from a medical emergency and she was rushing to the hospital. She lost two of her children in that accident.”

Chris gestured to a closed door. “This is Allison’s room.” He opened the door, pausing in the doorway. Stiles watched as he became stooped, aging before his eyes.

It wasn’t something he needed to see. He excused himself to go sit outside, waiting for the rest of them to return.

A few minutes later, Derek took the seat next to him, folding himself down. Quietly, he said, “I always forget that she’ll be like that.”

“Hmm?”

“Allison. We grew up together. She’d come visit her grandfather at the embassy. When I’d visit my grandmother before she was moved here, Allison would come with me. I always forget that she’s not still my friend, the most fearless person I knew. I suppose she is, but I don’t think she’s the same. Even if our doctors were able to help her, I think the Allison I knew is gone.”

“Does it bother you that Kate and Gerard probably orchestrated her accident?”

Derek shrugged. “I believe Chris when he says it wasn’t the other driver’s fault. He’s Allison’s father. He has the right to be angry.”

“So do you.”

“It’s not the same.” They sat in silence for nearly five minutes before Derek cleared his throat. “Do you think my grandmother is in danger from Kate’s—what do you call them—associates?”

“Probably. It was in the information Kate gave to me.”

“She can’t be in Lýkos because of the humidity—it’s bad for her body.”

“Once I take you home, I can protect her while I hunt down any associates Kate might have had. I’m beginning to think she didn’t have any though.”

“Why is that?”

“She killed her own father. Why didn’t she hire someone else to do it for her?”

“She hired you to kill me,” Derek pointed out. “Why do that if she’s going to kill everyone herself?”

“She said she hired me because she needed a scapegoat, someone to take the fall for your assassination.”

“My grandmother doesn’t believe that Kate wanted me killed.”

“You told her?”

“She’s my grandmother, the last connection I have to my father. Of course I told her.” Derek paused. “I didn’t tell her it was you, though, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not that,” Stiles assured him. “The relationship you have with your grandmother seems…strained. You don’t seem as close to her as visiting every year should make you.”

Derek laughed bitterly. “No,” he agreed. “We aren’t as close as we should be. My grandmother blames my mother for my father’s death. I’ve been told numerous times that I look like my mother.”

“And your great-grandmother.”

“And my great-grandmother.” Derek smiled. “My grandmother’s mother.” He sighed wistfully. “One would think that would endear me to her, but no.”

“You can’t win everybody over with a pretty smile and full head of hair.”

Derek snorted. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes?”

“A compliment would be something flattering. Saying I have hair is like saying I have skin. It’s a fact of life, not an exception.”

“I said you have a beautiful smile,” Stiles reminded him.

“You said pretty earlier.” Derek glanced up at Stiles, studying him with intense care. “Do you really think I have a beautiful smile?”

Stiles nodded. “If I weren’t on a job when we met, I would have taken you up on your offer to accompany you to the club.”

“You mean the job where you were supposed to kill me?”

“Actually, at that point I’d just been hired to investigate you.”

“Why couldn’t you have just done that? I could have seduced you without issue. All I’d have to do is tell you that Kate and I were not a thing, not married, not fucking. And then you and I could have fucked.”

Stiles barked out a startled laugh. He had not expected that.

“What makes you think I’d fuck you?” he asked. “Maybe I like a little more wining and dining before I fall into someone’s bed.”

Derek gestured at Stiles. “You are handsome. I am decent. We would be like music together.”

“Decent?” Stiles raised an eyebrow. “How is what you look like just ‘decent’? If anything, I’m decent and you’re handsome.”

“But you’re a very handsome man. Do you not see that? Does no one tell you that?”

Stiles laughed. “In my line of work, I don’t meet many people interested in relationships with me.”

“I wish you could see yourself as I do,” Derek said. “I know it’s only been a few days of knowing you—”

“Have you called your mother yet?” Stiles interrupted. He thought it was strange, Derek’s change of heart. First he hated him. Now he loved him. What was going on?

“I do not want to contact my mother,” Derek said. “I don’t wish to alarm her.”

“Too bad,” Stiles said. “I already talked to her. She wants you back in Lýkos ASAP. In fact, she’s sending someone here now to get you.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at him. “Was that why you needed to make a phone call?”

“Yes.”

Derek opened his mouth to respond, but Stiles was saved from whatever Derek was about to say by the appearance of Sammy and Grandma Valens.

“You owe me dinner,” Grandma Valens said. Derek pointed at Stiles.

“He gets to choose since he’ll be protecting us.”

Stiles was surprised that Derek was still deferring to him. He thought revealing the queen’s plans to return him to Lýkos would have been more widely protested. It seemed he didn’t know the prince as well as he’d thought.

“How about the cafeteria here? Easy to defend and limits our travel time.”

“I hate their gravy,” Grandma Valens complained.

Stiles rolled his eyes. He had a feeling Derek’s grandmother had a lot of things she disliked.

“Food is food, Grandmother. Besides, it’ll be nice to spend time here instead of trapped in a metal can.”

“Young man, you have a lot to learn about life.”

Derek shrugged. “If that’s your attitude, then I’m going back home now. Nice to see you, Grandmother. I’ll see you next year.”

He stood up, bowing deeply to his grandmother. “Sammy?”

“With you,” Sammy said. He turned to Stiles. “Before we leave, Chris wanted to talk to you. He’s still in Allison’s room.”

“Don’t go far.” Stiles left them in the dining room, standing awkwardly against the wall while he returned to Allison’s room.

He paused in the doorway.

Allison was around Derek’s age, but she appeared older, skin gray and sunken skin, a shaved skull wrapped with gauze. Her eyes were closed, a breathing mask over her face. If it weren’t for the rise and fall of her chest, Stiles would have thought she was already dead

Chris was slumped into a chair next to the bed, one of his daughter’s hands clasped between his.

Stiles cleared his throat, and Chris startled.

“There you are,” he said. “I was hoping to speak with you before you vanished again.”

Stiles remained silent, studying Chris’ increasingly haggard appearance.

“You don’t have to worry about any repercussions from killing Kate.”

“I didn’t kill Kate,” Stiles automatically denied.

Chris sighed, an exhausted exhale. “Do you know what I do for a living?” he asked.

“You supply weapons to law enforcement.”

Chris nodded. “I do. But I also specialize in security systems. One of which I installed at _Andie’s Bar and Grill_.”

Stiles carefully kept his face blank.

“You were the last person to see Kate alive. In fact, you’re the one who alerted the staff and patrons that there was a medical emergency. Now, in the chaos after Kate’s collapse, two things went missing. The glass she was using and the glass you had touched but not drank from.”

“Glasses?” Stiles pretended to be indignant. “What use do I have with bar glasses?”

“You don’t,” Chris said, “unless there was evidence on them. Like I said, you will not face repercussions from killing Kate. I think we can all agree that she deserved every bit of it.” Chris brushed a tear from his cheek, pressing a kiss to Allison’s hand before tucking it back under the blankets. “My daughter is dying because of my father and sister’s ambitions. Two innocent children are dead. My sister almost caused the death of another innocent again because of her ambition. Those are not consequences I want associated with my company.”

“You can’t fully assure me that Kate didn’t have others waiting to clean up her messes.”

“No, I can’t,” Chris agreed. “But I can tell you that there was a reason you were chosen.”

“Because I work alone?” Stiles guessed.

“Yes. You work alone, you work fast. You don’t ask questions.”

“I ask questions when I need to,” Stiles said. “I always research my targets. Kate’s job never sat well with me.”

“For that I am thankful. Less bloodshed this way. Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I only have about an hour left with my daughter before she’s taken off life support.”

Stiles stuck his hand out, and puzzled, Chris took it. “Thank you,” Stiles said sincerely. “You shouldn’t have to go through this.”

“Someone has to,” Chris said. “Take good care of him.”

“I’ll try.”

~ * ~

Dinner was a stilted affair. Grandma Valens refused to eat anything, muttering under her breath about no one listening to an old woman’s requests while Derek ignored her by conversing with Sammy.

Afterward, while his grandmother settled in front of the communal television with a group of knitting residents, Derek ushered Sammy and Stiles outside.

“How much longer until I’m dragged home?”

“At least another ten hours.”

“Plenty of time to go sight-seeing, maybe take in a game,” Derek said, cutting a glance to Sammy. “Or we could do something else?”

“No, a game sounds perfect,” Sammy said. “I think that’d be perfect. I mean, you don’t have baseball on Lýkos, do you?”

“Not outside,” Derek said, “too humid.” He turned to Stiles. “Can we watch a game then? Chris already told us that Kate didn’t have any associates.”

A game. Derek wanted to spend the rest of his time in the U.S. watching a baseball game.

Well, if Stiles didn’t have to worry about Derek still being a target, then sure why not? It’d be fun, which was something Stiles hadn’t let himself have too much of lately.

“Fine,” Stiles decided. “Yes. If we can get tickets, we can watch a game.”

Like overgrown children, Derek and Sammy clapped their hands together, and then Derek embraced Stiles, whispering “Thank you,” in his ear.

Stiles hoped he wouldn’t regret it as they climbed into the car.

~ * ~

Five hours later, Stiles didn’t regret a thing.

The team Derek had chosen to root for had won, and the prince had gorged himself sick on popcorn and hot dogs, sharing food with Stiles nearly every inning. They’d almost been on the giant screen, and Derek had sighed wistfully when it pulled away to focus on a couple three rows below them.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he’d said, and Stiles hadn’t asked for clarification, too aware of the fact that the couple was sucking face.

Now, Derek was asleep in the back seat while Sammy sang along to the radio, and Stiles tried to commit the entire time since they’d left the nursing home to memory.

Begrudgingly, Stiles sent a silent thanks to Kate for introducing him to Derek, but he wished he could have met him on his own terms, could have shown him around L.A., taken him dancing, gone to as many games as they desired.

He wished he could have kissed Derek at the game, at the club back in Lýkos.

If the queen didn’t have him shot on sight, Stiles decided that he’d kiss Derek before he returned home.

It’d be worth it just to have an answer to an unasked question: Stiles wouldn’t have minded sharing a kiss either.

Derek woke up when Stiles parked in front of his apartment.

“I estimate there’s still about five or so hours before the representative from Lýkos arrives, so I’d suggest getting some sleep. We’ll probably have to leave right away. The bed is plenty big enough to share. I’ll take the couch.”

Stiles unlocked the door, allowing Derek to enter first. Once Sammy crossed the threshold, Stiles stepped inside and locked the door again, out of habit arming his security system. He settled onto the couch, kicking off his shoes before he lied down.

He was asleep before the bedroom door closed.

~ * ~

He was awakened by his phone, his real phone, chirping, alerting him that there was a trespasser on the premises.

Stiles jerked upright, fumbling for the small caliber handgun he kept stashed under the couch in case of invaders.

He checked in the bedroom, finding Sammy on the floor on a sleeping bag he had found in the closest, Derek spread out on the bed. Both were still asleep, so Stiles slipped out of the apartment to head off whom he suspected was the representative from Lýkos come to collect Derek.

He was expecting Boyd. He was not expecting the person standing next to Boyd.

“Your Majesty,” he said, stashing his gun in the back of his jeans and tugging his shirt over it.

Talia glowered at him, but she remained silent.

Boyd however inclined his head, greeting Stiles with an even tone.

“Come with me,” Stiles said. “Derek is still asleep. Are you okay with taking Sammy with you too?”

“Certainly,” Boyd said. “If Sammy is willing to travel with us.”

Stiles turned off his alarm until they were inside and then reset it.

He pointed at the bedroom door, and Talia marched up to it, knocking loudly.

A few beats later, Derek threw open the door. His blinked at his mother, recognition slowed by sleep.

Boyd cleared his throat, and Derek’s gaze rolled over to him. For some reason, the sight of the head of the Royal Guard jarred Derek more than his own mother, and he snapped to attention.

Amused, Talia reached out to stroke a finger down her son’s cheek. “Truly you are safe?” she asked.

“As safe as can be,” Derek said. “Thanks to Stiles. He foiled Kate’s plans.”

“I’ve heard about that,” Talia said. She motioned to the couch. “I need to speak with Stiles briefly, but I want to make sure you’re really all right.”

“I’m fine.” Derek tugged his mother’s hand off his face. “I’m more worried about Sammy. Kate was using him.”

“Your friend?”

“Kate was using him to get to us. I don’t know. I guess. I know you don’t like Sammy.”

“I don’t mind Sammy,” Talia protested.

“You just liked him better when he was just my friend. Not my ex.”

“There was a time when I didn’t know if your sister would be accepted as my heir. I needed to keep you adherent to the outsider rules until such a time that the charter designating your sister as ruler and the other countries acceptance of her could be signed into law. You were a rebellious child, always spending time in the United States to be close to your father’s family. You met Sammy, and I selfishly hoped that you wouldn’t like him, that he’d make you miserable enough to stay in Lýkos.”

“That’s why you disapproved of him?”

“I suppose disapprove is the right word, but I never disapproved of your relationship with Sammy. I disapproved of how the charters had to be drawn. They gave no freedom to your sister nor to you. Only Cora is truly free to marry as she wishes.”

Talia clapped her hands. “Regarding that matter, Cora is becoming engaged to Isaac in two weeks time. As her older brother, it shall be your duty to speak in her favor.”

“Wonderful,” Derek intoned. “My sisters shall both be married before I even have a proper suitor. Does that affect the charters as well?”

“Not at all. The charters place the rule squarely on the female heirs’ shoulders. You shall only have to succeed the throne in case of your sisters’ deaths.” Talia turned to Stiles. “Much as I have my misgivings about you, you come highly recommended.”

“I do?” Stiles asked. “For what?”

“As the new guard trainer. You have more than proven yourself with guarding my son. It would be my honor to extend this position to you.” Talia rose bowing deeply to Stiles.

“There is one condition,” she continued. “Since you are no longer directly in charge of my son’s security, you may fraternize if you so choose.”

“Um, what?”

“You may date my son,” Talia said. “I hope you don’t think me forward to suggest that you take this opportunity.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“That was when I thought you were trying to kill my son.”

“I may need some time to think about it,” Stiles said.

He had a job offer? A legitimate, don’t kill people, job offer? And he had the option to explore whatever it was that was developing between Derek and himself?

No more changing identities. No more hoping the person he was supposed to kill deserved it. No more Kate and Gerard Argents.

Just no more.

He could get used to that.

“Sure. Yeah. I accept,” he said. “When do we leave?”

“The plane leaves in six hours,” Boyd said. “I suggest resting before then as the flight is sixteen hours long and very taxing.”

“I’m good,” Stiles said. “I need to close up some of my affairs anyway if I’m not coming back.”

What he had to do would take more than a few hours, but he could at least get started on the paperwork.

Then, he noticed Derek studying him, a contemplative look on his face.

“Yes?”

“Will you be able to complete your tasks in six hours?” he asked.

“No,” Stiles admitted.

“Then, may I be so bold as to ask if you’d accompany me to breakfast.”

“A date,” Stiles said, incredulous. “You’re asking me on a date right now?”

“Of course, Sir Boyd will have to accompany us as you are no longer in charge of my safety.”

“Of all the—” Stiles stared at him. Derek had to be joking. He didn’t seriously want to go on a date right now…did he? “You know what, sure. Yes. Let’s go. I know this great diner not too far from here. Perfect for a first date and the date’s bodyguard. Want to invite your mom and Sammy too?”

“Certainly. They can sit at a different table and you and I can talk. I’d like to get to know more about Stiles the person. He seems really interesting.”

Stiles shook his head, smiling begrudgingly. “That actually sounds nice,” he said. “Thank you.”

“It is settled then,” Derek declared. “Stiles of California, will you do me the pleasure of joining me for breakfast and a discussion of our similarities and differences today?”

“It would be my honor.”

~ The End ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been edited by myself, as such, there are still mistakes. If something bothers you, please let me know.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO!!  
> This is my hundredth story posted on AO3!!  
> The first three people to comment can submit a prompt to me at [my Tumblr](http://1989dreamer.tumblr.com/). Stories will be posted by December 25th of this year. I do have limits to what I will write, and I will let prompters know when they submit their prompts.  
> Thanks to any and all who participate in this event!  
> \--gremlins


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